


Blueberry Scones

by dirtymudblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Sex, Comfort No Hurt, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtymudblood/pseuds/dirtymudblood
Summary: Everyone forgot her birthday. Everyone except him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 29
Kudos: 803





	Blueberry Scones

**Author's Note:**

> It's my 21st birthday today! In celebration, I've written this little fluffy one shot. I hope you enjoy!

It was just the principle of the thing.

For Ron’s birthday she arranged an assortment of his favorite breakfast pastries to be delivered to his work. For Harry’s birthday she spent hours in line to acquire a set of limited edition dragon skin seeker’s gloves. For Ginny, a signed poster from her favorite quidditch player that cost Hermione an arm, a leg, and her dignity to swing. 

And now it was her turn. 25 years old today, yes she was. People, mostly women, hated getting older. Not Hermione. Age came with wisdom. It came with more respect, more experience. She  _ loved  _ getting older. 

12 Grimmauld Place was the meeting place for a birthday morning. Ginny would cook you your favorite breakfast. For Harry it was a full English breakfast. For Ron, eccles cakes. Hermione was blueberry scones. 

When she stepped through the floo, there was no one there to greet her. There was no smell of blueberry and syrup. 

With a frown, she stepped through the living area and called out to the occupants of the house. 

“Harry? Gin?”

She was met with a small gurgling sound from the end of the hall and a screech. 

“Yes, yes, James, I know, but you can’t walk around with a soiled nappy, can you?” Ginny was struggling to keep her newborn still on the changing table, a fresh diaper swinging from her teeth as she used one hand to keep him down and the other to wipe. 

“There we are.” Ginny breathed, relieved, as the diaper was finally secured around her son. Hermione cleared her throat and Ginny startled. 

“Hermione? What are you doing here?”

She blinked. “I… It’s…” 

Ginny waved a hand in dismissal. “Nevermind, I won’t question it. I should be relieved. Would you hold James for just a moment? I have to get dressed for work.”

The screeching baby was passed off into Hermione’s unready hands and she struggled to grow accustomed to his weight.

“Where’s Harry?” She called out to Ginny in the next room.

“Department called him early this morning. Left me with getting James ready all by myself. Why do you ask?”

Hermione pulled a thin smile. “No reason. Just wanted to talk to him about something.”

Ginny came back, her face flushed and hair tousled from the rush of getting ready. She swung James back onto her hip.

“Anything I can help with?”

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it with a snap. “No, I’ll just see him at the Ministry then.”

Ginny kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to head out, thank you for coming through and helping.”

She watched Ginny dash through the floo, calling “Little Wizard’s Daycare.”

_ It wasn’t a coincidence,  _ she wanted to say.  _ Where are my fucking scones? _

\----

“There she is!” Harry’s booming voice startled her from her paperwork. 

After leaving Grimmauld Place, Hermione busied herself with work. Her stomach rumbled consistently, reminding her that there were no scones to be eaten. 

“Hi, Harry.” 

“Today is a special day!”

Her heart leapt. “Is it?”

“It is indeed. Ginny told me you stopped over this morning, thank you for that by the way.”

“I did.” She pressed. 

“So you know I was called into the department early this morning?”

She blinked. “Uh huh.”

“Well,” he gestured to himself, “Williams stepped down. You’re looking at the new head Auror of the British ministry. The  _ youngest  _ head Auror in  _ history.” _

She blinked and swallowed. “Oh Harry, that’s great. I… I know how badly you’ve wanted this.”

He pouted and furrowed his brows. “Are you alright? I thought you’d be happy for me.”

She swallowed again and trembled her lips into a smile. “I am! Of course I am, Harry. I’m just not feeling well is all.”

“Oh,” he sighed, looking simultaneously relieved and disappointed. “Well I was going to invite you to dinner to celebrate, but if you’re not feeling well--”

“Yes, I think I’ll pass,” she cut off abruptly. “In fact, perhaps after I’m done with work I’ll go home early and rest.”

He quirked a brow. Hermione, leaving work early? It must be a serious ailment. “Alright… I’ll leave you to it.”

The quill in her hand snapped as he rounded out the doorway. 

It was silly, right? She asked herself. It’s just a birthday. A stupid day she popped out of a vagina. It’s not like they forgot on purpose. Ginny was struggling with James and going back to work after maternity leave and Harry had his career and Ron… had Ron to deal with. It wasn’t a big deal. 

Her hand flicked a stray tear from her eye.  _ So why does this hurt so much? _

“What’s wrong with you then?”

Internally, she groaned. Draco Malfoy. Of course. Not only did her friends forget her birthday, but now  _ he  _ was here. 

It wasn’t quite shocking. They saw each other every day, working very closely as the only two lawyers for the Department of Magical Creatures. Their offices were the only ones on the 856th floor. 

When they began working closely five years ago, she had been wary of him. What was a spoiled, rich git like him doing in a low level department as a lawyer? As she discovered, there were many things about Malfoy’s employment that shocked her. 

First, he was really quite good. He knew magical law like the back of his hand and she could always count on him for assistance in creating bills. 

Second, not only did he study magical law, she found out he spent a few semesters studying  _ muggle  _ law. She found out on the off chance that she saw a thesis paper  _ typed  _ by a  _ computer.  _ When she asked his reasoning for continuing his studies into the muggle word he just answered,  _ “because I can.” _

Third, he was really quite agreeable. He never complained when she asked him to stay late. He never said a negative word towards her blood status. He even assisted her in a pro bono werewolf case in his spare time. 

Even so, he was still Draco Malfoy. He had no qualms about telling her when he could tell she had lost sleep or in the humidity when her hair frizzed to twice the size. 

“Can I help you, Malfoy?” 

He tossed a blueberry scone onto her desk. It was wrapped in cellophane with a generic label sticker holding it closed. It wasn’t homemade like Ginny’s. It was probably old, sitting in the ministry cafe for weeks. But it was here. Her blueberry scone. 

“What’s this?”

“I could hear your stomach all the way from my desk.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his door. “And I thought it would be in bad taste to let you starve on your birthday.”

She blinked. “You know it’s my birthday?”

“Well, of course. You put it on my calendar.”

Hermione huffed, “No, I put it on  _ my  _ calendar, which you  _ stole.” _

“You’re better at organizing than I am.” He shrugged. 

She shook her head. “How did you know I liked blueberry scones?”

As she reached for the foiled pastry, she missed the slight blush that graced his cheek. It disappeared at the clearing of his throat. “I didn’t. It’s just… What they had left.”

It wasn’t true, really. Every year for her birthday she arrived at work with a fresh scone wrapped in a paper towel. From the angle of his desk he would watch her unwrap it and bring it to her lips, catching crumbs with the swipe of a little pink tongue. 

When he noticed she didn’t have one this year, along with the pissiness of her mood; he bribed the clerk at the ministry cafe to go into the back and fetch one. It was only because he was tired of her slamming papers and books onto her desk. Of course it was. 

He propped himself into the chair in front of her desk, snatching her crystal globe paperweight and tossing it from hand to hand. 

“Any plans for the big two five?” 

She didn’t answer, she was too distracted by his hands. His fingers were long and elegant, catching the globe on the tips of his fingers, before letting it roll down into his palm. His forearms flexed at each catch, which caused her to notice the lean muscle under his rolled his sleeves. He was quite fit. 

“Granger?”

She snapped her eyes to him. “Hmm? Sorry, what?”

He quirked a pale brow. “I asked if you had any plans for tonight. I saw Potty trailing out of here looking well pleased.”

“Yes, well, he was just made head Auror.”

“Fancy that.” Was his only answer. “Will the new head Auror be escorting you out then? A much safer birthday outing, I’d say.”

She shook her head. “No, actually. I’ll probably just be staying home tonight.”

Both eyebrows were up this time. “Alone, Granger?”   
“Yes, well…” She looked away. 

“Well?” He pressed, resting the globe back onto the stack of papers and folding his hands over this torso. 

“They forgot.” She muttered. 

“Hm? What was that?”

“They… forgot.” Her words were only slightly more legible. 

“Sorry?” He leaned forward.    
Her head snapped up, her cheeks blazing. “They  _ forgot,  _ okay? Harry, Ron, Ginny. They forgot my birthday. There will be no birthday celebration because they don’t know there is one to celebrate. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to finish my work for the day, head out early, and drink myself into a coma for the  _ next  _ 25 years.”

He blinked. “Well, that’s dramatic, isn’t it?”

She growled, slapping her palms onto the desk. “Get. Out!” 

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying… So what, your idiot friends forgot your birthday? That shouldn’t stop you from having a good night. How often does ones birthday fall on a  _ Friday?”  _

“I don’t know. Once every seven or eight years I presume. I suppose my 32nd birthday will be one for the books.”

He stood up, dusting the invisible debri from his pants. “No.”

“No?’ She sighed. 

He shook his head. “No. I have a bottle of aged cognac in my desk--”

“Excuse me? You keep alcohol in your  _ desk?” _

“It was $600 galleons, Granger. What safer place to keep it than the ministry?” He shrugged and began walking towards the door. She shook her head, her mouth gaping. 

“You’ll finish your work, come to my office, and we’ll drink until we’re sloshed.”

“But--”   
“See you in a bit, Granger.”

\--- 

She couldn’t work after that, could she? 

After every signature she’d glance up at the clock to find only a minute had passed. Would it be silly to put on makeup just to cross the hall for a drink?

Yes, she decided. Yes it would. 

It’s not like this was a date. Just a bloke who happened to be the only person to remember her birthday and he pitied her enough to crack open a prized bottle. 

_ One drink and that’s it. _

She wouldn’t admit it, but perhaps she patted down her hair and pinched her cheeks to give her a flush. 

His office was smaller than hers, not that he ever complained about it. His dark wood desk took up most of the space, while a bookshelf and client chair crowded the rest of the room. It was very cozy. Which was not a word she thought to describe anything related to Draco Malfoy. 

“Welcome, birthday girl,” He gestured to the seat in front of him. He already had a glass in his hand, more than a few sips taken out of it. “Please have a seat.”

He passed her a filled glass. “Thank you, bartender.”

He tipped his drink towards her in a nod. “To Potter becoming head Auror.”

For the first time all day, she laughed. She tipped her glass towards him to clinck them together. “May we be just as safe as we’ve always been.”

“Here, here.”

The liquor was smooth, like melted butter coating the back of your throat. But it stung the nostrils like a bitch. 

Draco chuckled as the witch in front him scrunched up her face and coughed. 

Glass after glass, they poured and drank and laughed. He talked about his own idiot friends and his failed relationship with Astoria Greengrass. She told him embarrassing secrets about her friends that made him howl. 

“Did you eat your scone?” He asked.

His eyes were shiny with laughter and his cheeks were flushed with alcohol. He was gorgeous. 

“No,” She shook her head. “I was going to save it for dessert. It  _ is  _ my birthday scone.”

He held up a finger and jogged into her office, most likely to grab it from her desk. Now that he wasn’t behind the desk, she was able to see the wall he blocked before. 

Pictures of him, Blaise, and Theo during Theo’s stag night. A photo of he and his mother in a cafe in Paris. A drawing from Teddy. And a calendar. 

She snorted.  _ My calendar. _

She looked at the dates. Lunches with clients, board meetings, he even wrote in his own notes such as “wear red to meet Dr. Hall”. But something was missing. She moved out of the chair to get a closer look.

“Malfoy?”

He paused in the door, the scone slightly flattened in his hand. A single, burning candle punctured in it. 

“What?”

She pointed to the space behind his desk, “My birthday isn’t on this calendar. I don’t put my birthday on my own calendar.”

He blinked. Visibly swallowed. “Well, that  _ would _ be quite stupid--”

He was cut off by her lips, her arms flinging around his neck. He had the good sense to move the burning candle away from her flammable mane of hair. One hand scrambled to set the scone on his desk, while the other rested behind her neck, pulling her closer. 

When they finally parted, they were both panting. A slow smile formed on her lips.    
“You remembered my birthday.”

He rolled his eyes, “We’ve already covered that--”

“No, no,” She grazed his lips with hers lightly, “You  _ remembered.” _

He pulled her to him by a fistful of hair, pulling through the curls gently. “You’re very easily impressed.” He murmured. 

She hummed and dragged her hands down his torso, finding the hem and running her hands up to the bare skin of his lower stomach. She felt his lower muscles flex and he groaned against her lips. 

“So are you,” She taunted. 

In a swift move, he sat in the now unoccupied chair and swung Hermione onto his lap with a yelp from her. She giggled as he adjusted her legs to throw over the armrest and wrapped her arms around his neck and he bent forward to retrieve the scone. 

The candle had burned down to the nub, blue wax spilling into the pastry cracks. 

“Make a wish,” his breath tickled the hair around her ear. It raised goosebumps on her arm. 

Not breaking eye contact, she blew the flame out, watching grey wisps of smoke float over his face. 

Carefully, she broke off a small piece of the scone, unsullied by wax, and pressed it against his lips. Smirking, he parted them to allow her to feed him. She laughed as he flicked out his tongue to catch a straw piece of blueberry before he wrapped his lips around her finger and sucked. 

With the same hand, she broke off a piece for herself. 

“Well?” he asked, watching her chew thoughtfully. 

“Not better than Ginny’s,” She said and he hummed in amused disappointment. When they kissed then, it tasted tart. “But perhaps you’ll learn to make them for next year.”

\---

“I can’t believe you forgot her birthday!”

“Me? You forgot, too!”

“You  _ both  _ forgot--”

“Shut up, Ron!” They both snapped.

They had already been to her flat, she was nowhere to be found. The Leaky said she hadn’t come in. Neville and Luna heard nothing. The only other place was her office, which was open and empty. A light was still on under Malfoy’s door. 

“We should ask Malfoy if he’s seen her.” Harry suggested. 

When they got closer, they were all suddenly aware of the thumps and groans that were unmistakably… Hermione…

“Oh  _ shit,”  _ Ron gasped, “We’ve driven her into the arms of a ferret.”

“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Harry whispered, flinching at the loud moan from Malfoy. 

“I don't even think she'll remember." Ginny laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! dirty-mudblood.tumblr.com


End file.
